Freak of Nature
by Elijah Blackwood
Summary: AU! In a world of only angels and humans, humans serve as slaves. When 16-year-old Castiel, a pure-blood angel, meets the exiled "freak" Dean Winchester he doesn't know what to say. The 18-year-old Dean only has one wing, a mutant, half human-half angel. Dean glares but Castiel smiles, "I'm Castiel, let's be friends." Castiel's father warned him of this boy, but what's the harm?CxD
1. Gone Again

In Arya, the only surviving city in the world, there are two humanoid species that live on the planet long since abandoned by people who called it Earth. When you are born, all of your DNA is sorted and you inherit traits from your parents. In this strange happening of heretic miracles, however, your species is selected pretty much at random. You can have an entire family of humans and one may eventually be born an angel. The chances of this happening, however, is not in most people's favor. You can only be one species, you cannot be part human or part angel. You are either a winged angel or a lowly human.

Humans live as slaves to a system ran completely by the angels. Most humans work as personal servants to angelkind, some are other things like trash collectors, or other menial jobs that are deemed unworthy of someone with such _pristine_ blood as the angels. This is where our story will begin. With the humans that all serve the house of Micheal the Elder. His family is the oldest-known family of pureblood angels. This family is that of the Winchesters. This family consists of six. The mother: Mary, the father: John, and three sons: Adam, the youngest, Sam, then Dean, the eldest, and Sam's young wife: Jessica. Adam, however, was lucky to be born angelkind so he no longer lives with his family. He lives with the family of Micheal so he will be well taught but close to his family.

Adam treats his family poorly, like scum. Having "angel blood" seems to give everyone an ego, Sam once told his mother and she nodded in defeat. He may not have been her son, but it was her husband's son from a previous marriage. His mother died at the hands of an angel, but Adam seems to have long forgotten. The sun rises slowly over the horizon, lighting up the crumbled city of Arya.

Sam stands, casting a smile to his sleeping wife, curled up in bed. Walking down the creaking stairs cautiously, he rounds the corner, expecting to see his brother Dean eating breakfast. No such luck. He sighs, grabbing a slice of bread and eating it slowly, looking around. A heavy hand pats his shoulder and grips it, "Hey, Sam, how's the bread?" Sam takes a second to finish the bite before he answers, "Slightly stale." "How?" He takes another bite, talking around the food, "Too crunchy, almost brittle." His father nods thoughtfully, "I'll talk to Sir Michael."

Sam nods, and his father smiles tightly, "Your fourteenth birthday is today." He nods, "I know." His father's fake smile fades away as he leans into the counter, "You married Jess just a year ago, seems a lot longer though." Sam nods again, the familiar distance between them settling in. "I know you weren't too keen on the idea of the of-age arranged marriage tradition thing," The boy sighs, running a hand through his shoulder-length hair. "No kidding." His father's smile returns, but a small one, a real one. "At least you fell in love with her." "At first sight." Sam added. "Just like your mother and I." John added wistfully, ruffling the boy's hair and heading towards his bedroom.

Walking to the dinner table, Sam notices a small note he didn't see before. It was Dean's handwriting, he mused to himself as he read it. _Hey, Sammy, I just went out (obviously). Don't worry, I'll be back home before Sunday dinner. Your brother, Dean. _Sam wanted to scream, today was Monday. He is used to Dean leaving for days, occasionally weeks, at a time but it doesn't mean he liked it. He heard light feet walking down the stairs and Jess smiled, bits of her curly hair falling in her face, her nightgown going halfway down her legs. Sam smiled at her, he loved Jess, his brother Dean almost got married until his betrothed killed herself. The next one followed in her footsteps, as did the third. That's when he started to leave all the time. It was when people started being mean to him more. Calling him a freak of nature. I love my brother, he's the best brother I could ever have. Why can't anyone see him the way I do? These thoughts roamed through his mind like they have hundreds of times before.

Jess smiles sadly, knowingly, "When's he coming back?" "Sunday." he responded, hugging her around the waist, burying his face in her neck. She wrapped her arms around him and stroked his back, "He'll come back, Sam, he always does." Then, the unsaid question spills from his lips, "What if, this time, he doesn't?" Jess ran a comforting hand along her husband's cheek, "You love your brother, he loves you too, he'll come back. Family always comes back." He kissed her forehead, "Thanks, Jess." She smiled meekly up at him, "Let's go get ready for work." He nodded, holding her hand as he lead her up the stairs, the four Winchesters got ready to go to their Masters' as usual. Little did they know, things were being set in motion that were far beyond comprehension.

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**_Hello!_**

**_Sorry to disappoint you, but this fic isn't being written just yet._**

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**_(Picture done by my friend {Danielle Christian} who used to own this account before she gave it to me. -.-; lol)_**

**_~Elijah X. Blackwood_**


	2. The Hub

Dean walked down another pathway, his stomach growling. He ignored it, taking _another_ turn around _another_ corner as he slowly reached the thicket of the woods. Sometimes he spent his time there for days, weeks even, depending on how long he was away from home. He strolled into the woods, heading to his usual place, Bobby Singer's house. He knocked three times on the door before he counted under his breath, "Three, two, and one-" Suddenly, a hand reached out and pulled him inside. "What the hell d'ya think you're doin', ya idjit! How many times do I gotta say it! One day, someone will knock on that door and it won't be you, Dean!" Bobby barked, locking all seven locks on the door before narrowing his eyes at him. Dean smiled, rolling his eyes, "Yeah, okay, Bobby. I brought more beer."

With Dean heading over to the fridge, Bobby sighed as he sat on his couch, "Hand me one while you're up, Dean." Dean could not respond due to the bags of peanuts and chips in his teeth but he was polite enough to make a noise of affirmation around the bags. Grabbing four beers he set two by Bobby and two on the end table by the recliner he all but claimed as his own. Popping open their beers, Bobby cast a worried look over at Dean who'd already taken his first swig from the bottle. "You can take that stupid trench coat off Dean, no one can see but me. I've known you since before you were born. I was with your dad at the time of your birth, for Christ's sake. So, Dean, take off the damn coat." Dean refused to look at Bobby but nodded, standing and hung his black coat on a hook and sat back down.

So there he sat, Dean Winchester, with a single wing hanging down his back, he adjusted the feathers to drape over the arm rest. Bobby looked on fondly, "It's a beautiful wing, it's really a shame to hide it." Dean stroked the feathers absently, refusing to look at Bobby. "They hate me for it, Bobby. They call me a freak." Bobby takes a drink of his beer, watching Dean. "Not once have I ever considered you a freak, Dean. Not once. It's a part of what makes you special." Ending on that note, they each took a handful of their snacks and shoved it in their mouths. Bobby muttered between bites, "I love ya kid, you and Sam are my only sons." A small, tentative smile creeps up as he looks over at Bobby, "We aren't kin, though." Bobby stood, downing the rest of his second beer, "Family doesn't end in blood, son, now go out and get me some groceries. I'll chill your beer 'til ya get back."

Dean laughed, "I love how you wait until I'm comfortable." Bobby grinned, "Which is why I always choose the perfect time." Bobby leaned over his armrest, turning on his antique record player. He picks one that plays some band called "Metallica", one of Dean's many favorites in the collection that Bobby and Deans' father collected together. When Dean was younger, Bobby once told him that the record player was old, even when he was born. Dean smiled at the memory, it was really high-tech for the current time period now, though. Getting up to retrieve his coat, Dean hummed "Enter Sandman" enthusiastically, a slight spring in his step. Bobby knew that Dean loved music, he knew very well, but he also knew social requirements forbade anyone who wasn't angel (or in Dean's special case, pure-blood angel) to commit or even dabble in the fine arts. It hurt even more knowing that Dean couldn't share his gift of musical acclimation- Dean played guitar so well and sang pretty good too, it was such a shame, Bobby thought to himself.

"I'll be back in a half hour, Bobby. If I'm not back, just... nevermind. I'll be back. Bye, Bobby." Dean shrugged on his coat quickly and slung a pack over his shoulder before hastily unlocking the locks and closing the door behind him. Bobby didn't lock it. He only needed to when Dean was there, since it was a crime to talk to "mutts" unless it was required to kill them. Bobby opened Dean's beer and started chugging it, he'd get Dean another one later.

Dean walked the forest path quickly and quietly, the need to stay hidden his top priority. He ducks under an arch of bent branches, headed towards an alleyway that leads to a straight shot to the main streets. Once arriving at the fence, after taking off his pack, he takes off his coat and slings it atop the fence. He puts the backpack back on, he has merely minutes before someone may notice his wing. Sure that all the barbed wire is covered, he grips his fingers into the chain-link fence and climbing up quickly. Here, he doesn't have to worry about the noise, the alley is pretty busy. It's usual loiterers typically include whores trying to make a quick buck, dealers, and the occasional rape and mugging- the usual for a town of this caliber. The angels live in a gated community of mansions, after all.

Dean finally jumps onto the cement, a few feet off the ground, the city streets bustling behind him. He keeps the city in his peripheral vision, the alley way in full alert. No one is there. He takes a breath of relief, pulling the leather jacket from the fence and putting it back on as quickly as he can. He puts the almost-empty bag back on and heads towards the hub. He gets to the grocery vendors and collects water, some fruit, vegetables, and salted meat. Realizing he forgot bread, he grabs a loaf and hands them all to the vendor and pays for them, reluctantly, with Bobby's food money. Prices had risen lately and it had been getting ridiculous.

Once he packs it all into the bag, he heads for the exit. On high alert, he hears a few whispers concerning Micheal, his parent's "master". He stops, subtly, as if looking at the pocket knives spread haphazardly across the plastic table. "I heard his little brother is in deep, in big trouble with..." the man looks around before whispering even softer, "Babalon". He almost drops the knife he's holding, _Babalon?!_, he says inwardly. "You mean..." the other guy trails off. "Yeah," the guy licks his lips nervously, "the 'Mother of the Angels'."

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**_Author's Note:_**

**_I'm not doing regular updates at the moment but I really wanted to get this out there._**

**_Review, please._**

**_~Elijah X. Blackwood _**


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